


Junior High Fantasies

by maybegracie



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, M/M, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Punk Bucky Barnes, i wrote this on receipts at my job
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 06:35:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4337660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybegracie/pseuds/maybegracie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Steve thinks that Bucky Barnes is planning his murder, but really he just has a big gay crush.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Junior High Fantasies

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this on receipts during work, because I'm a loser and I get bored very easily. Everyone is super OOC and lame, but i like it.
> 
> Title from Nerdy Boy by Candypants. I love this song so listen to it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QYRpgM5rILc
> 
> If enough people ask for it, I might write a sequel where they go to college.
> 
> visit me at jeantamaki.tumblr.com

Bucky sucked the last of his cigarette before tossing it into a garbage can.

The bell hadn’t even rung, and already he was getting thrown curious, albeit intimidated looks. He didn’t blame them. He was quite a sight, what with the hair and the arm. And he supposed they didn’t expect a new face in the middle of November.

“At least try, James,” his mom had pled as she watched him eat his oatmeal that morning. “Just promise me that you haven’t already given up.”

“Yeah, sure,” he had said, kissing her cheek. “I promise, ma.”

Bucky had never been one to keep a promise.

-

“Good job on the field on Friday, Steve!”

“Congrats on the scholarship, Rogers!”

“Look at this face, huh? This guy is gonna be big.”

Steve grinned and blushed, letting his friends and teachers pat him on the back and ruffle his hair.

In a movie of Steve’s life, there would be a montage every twenty minutes of this stuff. They would be in between scenes of Steve scoring goals, studying for finals, and helping the elderly across the street.

This was the reality of Steve’s high school career. This was what people saw in Steve: a good, wholesome boy. And since Steve was born, this was all he really needed. He was comfortable with his sense of self. Everyone seemed to love this Steve Rogers.

Or, well, everyone who Steve didn’t really give a shit about.

“Steven, why the _hell_ were you on the bench for the entire second half of tonight’s game?”

“A C? Really, Steven? You think you’ll get into NYU with these fucking grades? Because I sure as hell don’t.”

“Stevie, you know I love you. Now, grab me another beer, would you?”

“You alright, bro? You look kinda dazed.”

“Yeah,” Steve grinned. “Yeah, I’m great, Clint. Thanks."

“Alright,” Clint smiled hesitantly. “Good job on Friday. You kicked some serious ass.”

Steve smiled and pat Clint’s back. “It was the team, not just me.”

Clint scoffed. “Whatever, Captain. See you in Calc.”

-

Bucky had realized early on that all schools were exactly the same. All the groups were the same. All the kids were the same. Sure, they called themselves different names, and had different hand out spots, but the formula was consistent.

Steve Rogers was an anomaly.

Thirty minuted into his first day, Bucky had heard all about Steve’s winning shot at the last football game. Bucky had mentally stuck Rogers into “Jocks” and left him there. He had found that minimal exposure to the athletic students meant fewer fights and even fewer parties. This was how Bucky liked it.

What Bucky didn’t like was having his lunch interrupted by the aforementioned Rogers, who, up close, looked like a model for a Christian summer camp ad.

Or a gay club.

Either way, Bucky wasn’t thrilled.

“Hi! You must be James. I’m Steve Rogers, and as part of the Fury High Welcoming Committee, I just wanted to-“

“Bucky.”

“Pardon?” Steve smiled blindingly. (read: annoyingly)

“My name is Bucky,” he huffed, blowing smoke onto Steve’s outstretched hand. “James was my dad. I don’t appreciate the sentiment.”

Steve looked flustered. “Oh, well, I’m sorry, Bucky. I just wanted to say welcome, and ask if you had any questions.”

“Actually, yes, I do have a question,” Bucky said, standing up and letting his cigarette dangle from his lips. “You guys got a boxing team?”

-

“Peggy, he’s staring again.”

“Let him stare, Steve,” Peggy grinned. “Your face deserves it.”

“Do you think he has a gun?” Steve worried, playing with the collar of his polo.

Bucky Barnes was sitting underneath a tree outside, absentmindedly picking grass with his metal arm while glowering at Steve through the cafeteria window.

“Yes, Steve,” Peggy rolled her eyes. “I think Bucky Barnes has come to your last three football games and skips fourth period to stare at you because he wants to murder you.”

“Thank God you agree,” Steve said, wide eyed. He grabbed onto Peggy’s hands. Bucky’s glare turned darker. “I was beginning to think I was crazy.”

-

“You need to grow a pair and ask him out. He thinks you hate him.

Bucky looked up to see Peggy Carter glaring down at him.

“I don’t know-“

“Oh give it a rest, Barnes, you know I’m not dumb and I know you aren’t either. Steve. You like him.”

Bucky hid a blush by frowning and looking away. Judging by the quirk of Peggy’s lips, the attempt was futile.

“I don’t _like_ anybody. Maybe, objectively, I find Roger’s aesthetically pleasing, but that doesn’t mean I wanna ask him to the damn Homecoming dance.”

Peggy rolled her eyes. “He has football practice until eight today. Be there.”

“What if I already have plans?”

“Cancel them.”

And with that, Peggy walked away.

-

“What the hell was that about?!” Steve whispered as Peggy approached him.

Bucky tossed them a withering look and walked off, presumably to break someone’s skull.

“Just sharing some information I thought he might be interested in,” Peggy grinned suspiciously.

“Like what? My social security number?”

“Something like that.”

Steve sighed. He need better (read: less cryptic) friends.

-

Bucky was slowly realizing that he was doomed. His interaction with Peggy had led him to be standing in the shadows of the bleachers while Steve ran drills and stretched.

And sweat.

A lot.

Which was obviously totally disgusting and not attractive at all.

As far as Bucky knew, Steve hadn’t seen him. He didn’t seen him. He didn’t have the deer-in-the-headlights look that was usually on his face when Bucky was around.

Bucky was so lost in thoughts of licking off the beads of sweat on Steve’s neck that he didn’t even notice Steve’s teammates changing shirts and grabbing backpacks.

Steve laughed at something Sam said as he waved goodbye.

Bucky stepped out from the shadows as Steve walked in his direction.

This obviously was not the right thing to do, as Steve jumped a good feet into the air and let out an ‘eep’ at Bucky’s sudden appearance.

“Shit,” Steve breathed, clutching his chest. Bucky blinked. “Where did you come from? Are you invisible? That was crazy! I had no idea you were there. How long were you there? Holy cow! Are you here to beat me up? Does your arm shoot lasers?”

Bucky blinked.

“Are you okay?”

“Don’t cuss.”

Steve frowned. “Um… okay.”

“You’re too nice and smart to cuss,” Bucky glared.

Steve looked at him thoughtfully. He thought that he might see a hint of pink in Bucky’s cheeks, but it was probably the lights.

A pause.

“Are you gonna kill me?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Why do you think I want to kill you?”

“Because you glare at me during lunch?” Steve shrugged. “And hide in the shadows while I play football? And-“

“I don’t want to kill you, Steve,” Bucky said, smirking. “I watch you because you’re really pretty. And I come to your games because you look handsome in your uniform.”

“Okay?” Steve clearly was lost. “So you’re not gonna beat me up?”

Bucky rolled his eyes again and took a step forward, grabbing Steve’s neck and pressing their lips together.

Steve stiffened. Bucky’s lips were chapped and dry, and his long hair tickled Steve’s cheeks. His hand on his neck was firm and warm.

Steve’s eyes were open. He could see the freckles on Bucky’s nose, and see the parking lot lights flickering behind him.

When Bucky pulled away, Steve help his breath, waiting for the inevitable fist in the stomach, or knee in the groin.

But it never came. Bucky just raised an eyebrow, ran a hand through his long, dark hair, and walked off, leaving Steve reeling, touching his neck.

-

Steve managed to semi-successfully avoid Bucky for three days. In school on Friday, Steve ate lunch in the bathroom. Peggy later said that Bucky had pouted all through-out lunch. And that night, Bucky hadn’t been at the game because of boxing practice.

On Saturday and Sunday, Steve had hung out with Clint and Sam at his house.

“Wait,” Sam had said while Clint’s jaw hung to the floor. “Bucky Barnes as in crazy-metal-arm-new-kid-Bucky Barnes? He kissed you? And you live to tell the tale?”

“I know,” Steve sighed, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling and wondering for the thousandth time, if his intimate dram about Bucky was something to be taken seriously. He had, after all, had a dream once about Sam, and well, Sam was _Sam_.

Clint snapped out of his daze. “Bro, he’s kind of hot.”

A pause. Sam raising an eyebrow while Steve sat up to look at Clint confusedly.

“Like, in an objective way, obviously,” Clint blushed and stuffed another chip into his mouth.

Sam shook his head. “Have you told Peggy yet?”

Steve groaned and tossed a pillow in Sam’s general direction. “No. Oh god. She’ll be so shocked.”

Needless to say, Peggy was not shocked.

“I know,” she said, her lips turning up. “Who do you think told him about your practice?”

“What the heck, Peggy?!” Steve threw his hands in the air. “You didn’t think to run that idea by _me_ first?”

“No,” Peggy said, patting Steve’s arm. “I knew he wouldn’t make a move, and I sure as hell knew _you_ wouldn’t, so I took matters into my own hands.”

Steve blinked at her.

“So, when are you guys going out? Or have you already?”

“Go out?!” Steve screeched. “We aren’t going to go out, Peggy, he hates me.”

-

“He still thinked you hate him.”

Bucky rubbed sleep out of his eyes.

“Why are you at my house, it’s like 6 AM,” he said, yawning.

“It’s seven, and you have school in forty minutes,” Peggy said, hoisting her backpack higher up on her shoulder. “And Steve still thinks you wanna kill him.”

Bucky sighed. “Come in, I’m eating.”

Peggy followed Bucky into a small kitchen, where there was an open box of Cheerios and a bowl on the counter.

“I thought I made it pretty damn clear that punching is the last thing I want to go to him,” Bucky said through a mouth of cereal. “Unless he’s into that sort of thing.”

Peggy wrinkled her nose. “For the record, he’s not that kinky. At least not with that. He might be into bondage.” Bucky coughed violently. “Regardless, you’re methods of wooing didn’t work. In fact, I think he’s even more scared of you now.”

“Shit.”

-

Bucky was stalking towards Steve, fuming. This was it. The fallout of the kissing incident. Steve squeezed his eyes tight and braced himself for the inevitable attack.

“You’re a real idiot, you know?” Bucky said. Steve opened one eye.

“I am?”

“If you thought I hated you enough to iss you and then beat you to a pulp, then you’re a fucking dipshit.”

Steve closed his locker and stared blankly at Bucky.

There was a long stretch of silence.

“So…”

“I like you, you idiot,” Bucky said, blushing.

Steve blinked. “I have to go.”

-

Steve supposed Bucky was hot, in a purely aesthetic way. He had nice eyes. And his hair was really flowy and soft-looking. His metal arm was scary, but his flesh looked soft and warm and firm.

Also he was small, which was cute.

But his personality nearly canceled out his strong jawline.

He was always brooding and glaring at Steve. Though, when he thought about it, maybe Bucky was just staring at him and didn’t realize how scary he looked.

Steve was lying in his bed, still warm from his post practice shower. He quickly threw on a pair of boxers, jeans, and a t-shirt.

He crept down the stairs, thinking he would make it out without any trouble.

“Where are you going, Steven?”

Steve sighed and turned around to face his father, drink in hand and well past tipsy.

“Just need some air,” Steve forced a grin. “I’ll be back before dark.”

“If you have so much free time, why don’t you study for that Chem final you have next Thursday, huh?” Mr. Rogers slurred.

“Dad, that final was last week,” Steve sighed. “I got an A. We already talked about this.”

Mr. Rogers frowned, wobbling slightly as he took a step back. “It was? We did?”

Steve carefully reached forward and took the glass. “Yeah, we did. You just forgot. It’s okay. Let’s sit you down, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Yeah, Stevie, that sounds good.”

His dad was asleep the second he sat down.

Steve took the open bottle and put it in the cupboard, before tossing a blanket on his sleeping father and slipping out the door.

Steve walked with no clear direction, but soon found himself standing in front of a coffee shop, looking through a window at Bucky Barnes, eating a muffin angrily.

Steve knocked on the window before he would psych himself out. Bucky looked up, crumbs falling from his mouth. After a confusing conversation with their eyebrows, Steve had entered the shop, ordered a coffee, and was sitting across from Bucky in a small booth.

“What are you doing here? It’s like nine,” Steve said, burning his tongue with a sip of his drink.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Bucky didn’t meet Steve’s eyes.

“Trying to escape my shitty homelife,” Steve laughed. Bucky visibly tensed. “Sorry, trying to escape my mega-lame-o life.”

The edit seemed to appease Bucky, who said: “What’s so shit about it?”

“Dad has early-onset dementia; drinks so he can forget that he’s forgetting,” Steve said, looking right at Bucky.

“That _is_ shit.”

“So,” Steve continued. “Why are you here? Just finishing up a post-homocide muffin?”

They both glanced down at what sat on Bucky’s plate, which was less of a muffin and more of a pile of crumbs.

“Dad was a piece of shit. Mom and I left him. Sometimes she has nightmares about him coming after us. She says that she needs to let the dreams run their course, but I’d rather not be around to hear her have them.”

For a moment, the only sound was their breathing, and the sound of the barista sweeping behind the counter.

“That blows, man,” Steve finally said.

Bucky laughed. “Yeah, it really does.”

-

Bucky Barnes had never had many friends. Let alone friends who he fantasized about fucking their brains out.

So it was understandable that Bucky was unsure how to handle his present predicament. Steve would smile and wave at him in the halls. He had mysteriously found out Bucky’s number, and would text him silly pictures, never really minding Bucky’s one-word replies.

Steve had also started sitting with him at lunch.

The first time, Bucky had been sitting alone underneath the tree when Steve plopped down beside him, Peggy in tow.

“What the fuck?” he had exclaimed while Steve unpacked his PB&J.

“We want to eat lunch here,” Peggy had said simply.

“We like this tree,” Steve added around a mouthful of sandwich. “It’s a nice tree.”

“Everyone is _staring_ , Steve,” Bucky whispered, leaning forward.

Steve wrinkled his nose. “Let them look, then. Right, Peg?”

Peggy nodded with an air of disinterest, looking over at a group of jocks eyeing them with dumb-founded looks on their faces.

“Ae you even real?” Bucky asked, staring at the way the sun made his hair gleam.

Steve grinned, his teeth big and white. “Don’t be silly, Bucky. Of course I’m real.”

Bucky wasn’t so sure.

-

Steve, as Bucky later learned, had a group of older, cooler friends that came back into town during Christmas break to visit.

“So, where do you guys study?” Bucky asked nervously as he bit into his burger.

“NYU,” Bruce said. “But some of us don’t do much studying there.”

Thor laughed jovially, licking the last of his third – or was it fourth – cheeseburger from his fingers.

Tony, who spoke with an air of self-righteousness (though, if the articles Bucky had read were true, then Tony had every right to be in love with himself) said plainly: “Don’t bother with college, Steve, it’s a sham. I dropped out and look at how well I’m doing.”

Steve chuckled. “Well, not all of us can be one of Fortune’s 100 richest entrepreneurs under twenty-five.”

Bucky gulped.

-

A week before Christmas, Bucky opened his front door to find Natasha Romanoff standing there with two mugs of cocoa.

“Nat! Holy shit, oh my god!” Bucky reached forward and tugged Natasha close, reveling in her familiar scent. “What are you doing here?”

Natasha smirked. “Your mom called and said you were acting like a weird loner, and asked if I wanted to fly down and visit.”

Bucky squeezed her tighter and smiled wider than he had let himself in months.

Natasha pulled away after a long moment and said: “Let’s go grab some lunch and chat, yeah?”

“Sure,” Bucky grinned. “I’d really, really love that.”

-

They found themselves sitting in a nearby Panera, Bucky picking nervously at his salad, while Natasha ate her sandwich.

“So, have you made any new friends, or was your mom right?”

Bucky chuckled. “I still don’t think my mom would say that about me. But, yeah. A couple.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “A couple? Color me impressed, Barnes. I thought you were just sitting around crying over me. Tell me about these friends.”

“Well, there’s Steve,” Bucky said.

“Is that a real blush?” Natasha sat forward in her seat. “What’s he like?”

“Oh God. He’s the polar opposite of me, really. Captain of the football team. Straight As. Nicest guy you’ll ever meet. And he has these big blue eyes and this perfect, ridiculous haircut. When he smiles, it’s like sunshine or some dumb shit like that. And he has a stupid hero complex, and just wants to save everyone. And, you know, for someone so smart, he sure is a fucking idiot sometimes, because-“

Bucky cut himself off when he saw Natasha raise a perfect eyebrow.

“Well, then,” she sighed. “More than a good pal, then.”

Bucky smiled unconvincingly, and Natasha chuckled.

“You’ve got it bad, Bucky.”

“I know,” Bucky groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “Really fucking bad.”

-

Natasha’s parents had told her she could stay until Christmas Eve, which meant they would be reunited for a mere six days.

“You could always come visit _me_ ,” Natasha had said as they watched the newest Batman movie, curled around each other.

“We both know how awful of an idea that is.”

“Yeah,” she sighed, resting her head on Bucky’s shoulder. “I know. It’s just so boring without you. I don’t have anyone to gently bully into hanging out with me.”

Bucky was about to respond when his phone buzzed.

“What is it?”

Bucky shushed her as he read the message.

 **Steve** : me n the guys r hangin tonite wanna cme? :)

Bucky looked over at Natasha, who was watching him expectantly.

 **Bucky:** Can I bring a friend?

-

Steve, as expected, welcomed Natasha with open (read: muscular) arms.

Thor was thrilled to meet Natasha, and wouldn’t stop calling her madam.

The others, including Sam and Clint, regarded her with fluctuating levels of disinterest and curiosity.

Peggy, who evidently knew _everyone_ , smiled and knew Natasha by name before ever being introduced.

Bucky raised an eyebrow and Steve laughed. “She does that. I’ve known her for years, and for the life of me I still have no clue how.”

“So,” Bruce smiled. “How long have you and Bucky here been friends?”

“Well, we grew up together. Bucky’s mom is from a Russian background, and my parents were Russian immigrants, so we kind of became friends through that,” Natasha explained, turning to Bucky for affirmation.

“Yeah. All Russians tend to flock to other Russians, so we met at two, or something.”

“How cool!” Steve exclaimed. Bucky felt his heart flop. “So do you know Russian?”

“да,” Bucky replied. Steve grinned. “Natasha was raised speaking only Russian, and I was raised more or less bilingual. I can’t really read or write in Russian, but I can speak and understand it pretty well.”

“Твой акцент ужасен , хотя,” Natasha snorted. The others listened with interest.

“отвяжись.”

“My parents tried to get me to learn Russian,” Tony sighed wistfully. “But I convinced them to sign me up for Italian classes, instead. A much more beautiful language. Russian is too guttural.”

Natasha and Bucky shot him identical looks of distaste.

“I for one,” Bruce said, slicing the tension. “Wish I had been raised bilingual. But my parents didn’t even know any other languages to pass on.”

Thor nodded. “My parents and brother speak Norwegian, but they never bothered to teach me.”

“It’s not that great,” Bucky shrugged. “Sometimes it’s hard to remember words in English, and _everyone_ wants you to show them.”

Natasha nodded in agreement, sipping her soda. “And sometimes you can’t just slip into it. Like you need someone else to speak to you in Russian.”

“Now _that_ I get,” Tony said. “Everyone who knows I’m bilingual makes me stay stuff, but it’s so hard without someone else. I spent two years of high school abroad, in Italy, and I barely spoke English while I was there. So I’m not used to just switching back and forth. It’s so frustrating.

Steve smiled, and Bucky’s heart thumped almost painfully at how happy he looked. Bucky was happy, too. He was so relieved that everyone got along, and he loved how red Steve turned when Natasha stage-whispered to Bucky: “He’s hotter that you described.”

Bucky goddamn Barnes was falling in love with Steve fucking Rogers and he wasn’t even mad about it.

-

Later, the majority of the group decided to go get drinks at a little bar that usually didn’t card.

“I think I’m ready to turn in, actually,” Steve said.

“Me too,” Bucky jumped up, taking any alone-time possible with Steve. “I’ll drive you.”

After hugging everyone goodbye, Steve fell into step with Bucky as they walked towards his car.

“It’s nice how they all got along,” Steve offered as they buckled in. “I really liked Natasha.”

“Yeah,” Bucky grinned, wide and bright. Steve’s breath got caught in his throat. “She’s the best. Back when, uh, you know, my dad was in the picture, I spent a lot of nights at her house.” Bucky sighed. She seems cold, sometimes, but she’s one of the most amazing people you’ll ever meet.”

They were quiet for a while, Steve watching Bucky driver, his metal arm stuck out the window.

“How did it happen?”

Bucky looked over. “What? My arm?” Steve nodded, scared of pushing Bucky too far. “I was fourteen. My dad was beating on my mom, and I wanted to escape, so I stole his car and drove off. Got about twenty feet before I wrapped myself around a pole. At least it distracted Dad enough to leave my mom along for a while.” Bucky chuckled humorlessly. “My real arm was shredded. Torn to bits. It had gone through the window. So I got this one.”

Steve let out the breath he hadn’t known he had been holding. “I’m so, so sorry Bucky.”

“Yeah, well,” Bucky shrugged. “It happens. We’re here.”

Steve wasn’t 100% how Bucky knew where he lived, but he was sure that the way Bucky was getting out of the car to walk him to the door was giving him butterflies.

It was a short walk, and entirely unnecessary, but it made Steve giddy just the same.

“So…” Bucky said, shoving his hands in his pockets as they loitered on Steve’s porch.

“Can I kiss you?” Steve suddenly blurted.

Bucky stared at him for a moment, wide-eyes, before nodding.

Steve leaned forward, slowly, and put his hand on Bucky’s cheek.

Steve tasted like Sprite and Skittles.

Bucky tasted like cigarettes and Mountain Dew.

Steve could feel his heartbeat in his throat as he knotted his hands in Bucky’s hair. Bucky put his hand back on that spot on his neck.

They opened their mouths, letting their lips and tongues slide together.

When they pulled apart, they spent a long moment breathing into each other’s mouths, catching their breath.

Steve opened his eyes to watch Bucky’s eyelashes flutter on his cheeks.

“I can’t believe I ever thought you hated me,” Steve whispered. Bucky let out a loud peal of laughed, which Steve promptly swallowed up with another deep kiss.

They held each other tight on Steve’s door stoop, laughing and kissing and ignoring Mrs. Banks from across the street who was watching for her window, fuming.

-

Bucky took a drag of his cigarette as he sat on the school steps.

“If you keep smoking like a chimney, you’ll die off before I can ask you to prom.”

Bucky looked up to see Steve Rogers grinning down at him, backpack slung over his shoulder.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Captain,” Bucky winked. He put out his cigarette and tossed it in the trash, standing up.

Steve grabbed his hand. “That is, if I even ask you. I might ask this guy in my Economics class.”

Bucky scoffed and raised an eyebrow. “As if anyone else would want to put up with your sorry ass.”

Steve laughed and kissed Bucky right on the mouth.

“Steve, everyone’s staring.”

Steve just smirked. “Let them look. We’re quite the sight.”

**Author's Note:**

> come see me over at jeantamaki.tumblr.com
> 
> if anyone wants it, I might want to write a college sequel.


End file.
